


i never meant (i only wanted)

by ADyingFlower



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Families of Choice, Gen, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Foster Siblings, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Korean Keith (Voltron), Mental Health Issues, Not Canon Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Queerplatonic Relationships, Running Away, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: It's a lot farther to Arizona from Washington D.C. than he thought it would be.The sun beats down on his scalp and dark clothes as he travels the roads of national highways, occasionally trying to hitchhike when he could.Not often, though. His soles burn into his feet, but he doesn’t dare stop.





	i never meant (i only wanted)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Keith! You're my precious sunshine, and I love you dearly. And that means I love torturing you, obvi.

They won.

They won the war.

Keith lets himself pause as the victory sirens ring overhead, his neck craning back to admire the sky above. His bayard is limp in his grip, the blade of it digging into the mud at his feet.

“Paladins!” Allura’s voice echoes out through both his headset and the castle’s loudspeakers, bright with elation and hope in a way he has never heard from her before in all of their years together. “We won, Zarkon is defeated.”

They won.

Hunk’s eyes are damp next to him, his armor stained in bursting purples and blues. “We can go home.” He whispers, a prayer and a benediction all in one.

Keith doesn’t move his eyes from the sky above, a world with three suns and eight moons, so alike and yet not like Earth.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything.

 

Allura is regal and proud, her chin jutting out with well-earned confidence as Coran slowly places the crown on her hair, even if the adviser's expression couldn’t mask the overwhelming pride practically radiating from him.

Shiro's warmth guides him as they stand in parade rest, a steadying presence as the crowds roar their approval at her first proclamation, of freedom above all else. As one, they bow behind the newly crowned Queen, their colors blending a yellow-blue-green-red-black.

And yet, Keith has never felt so alone.

 

Earth is still several vargas away, but Keith knows where to find Lance anyhow. All he wanted was for the blue paladin to spar with him, something to keep his mind off the undefinable emotions swirling in his gut. Shiro was too busy for him now, the Castle loaded to the brim with passengers of all kinds.

It’s overwhelming, so used to the years spent where only seven people inhabited such a large space ( _filled it with laughs and stories and jokes)_. He can’t go anywhere without bumping into what feels like hundreds of aliens. His chest's going to explode under the mounting pressure, and none of the gladiators could keep up with him anymore enough to provide a sufficient enough distraction.

The door to the crystal room opens silently, like all the doors do, but Lance glances over at him regardless. Several blankets are dragged all over the floor, the star guide drifting through the air.

He takes a seat next to him, experience having taught him painfully in that moments like this, it was better just to listen. _Children should be seen, not heard_ rings through his head like a demented mantra, but he pushes that away too.

Bad memories like that have no room here, in this safe place where only the two of them exist.

Eventually, Lance whispers a question into his drawn knees. “...Do you think they remember me?”

Keith doesn’t even think about it. “Yes.” He answers without hesitation, curling a hand around the Blade of Mamora knife at his side. One too many invasions in the Castle taught him to be prepared at all times.

Lance peeks at him past the crook of his elbow with red rimmed eyes, and Keith pretends he doesn’t see it.

“The way you talk about them…” He fumbles with his words for a moment, talking never having been his strong suit. It's like a battle without the rush in his veins, the survival instinct pushing at him to _run flee fight hide_. “They love you.” He answers simply instead.

It’s a weak argument, but it seems to provide even a small semblance of comfort to the other boy. Slowly, as if he was a skittish animal, Lance leans into his side, the smell of the ocean breeze under his nose and the warmth of another human body pressing into his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Lance murmurs, and his lips twitch in a small grin.

“No problem.”

 

Pidge is next, and it was only by coincidence that he finds her by herself rather than pressed against her father and brother. They rescued the Holts almost a year ago, but he knows that no amount of time would erase the ages of wondering and loneliness.

The sound of keys tapping slow and eventually come to a stop. He straightens up from his slouch against the door frame, attempting a weak smile when she turns to face him. By her face, he guesses it wasn’t so successful. Damn, he though that he was really getting the hang of those.

“Ignoring the fact you were standing there and staring at me for ages,” She glares at him over the brim of her useless glasses, and he can’t tear his eyes from the bangs poking into her jaw. “You need something?”

(He remembers, once upon a time, how a Galra soldier stole them in an effort to incapacitate her. She managed to both steal them back and render the soldier unable to bear children in less than five minutes)

Keith shakes his head, striding over to her in quick steps. “No, just thinking.”

She gives him that _look_ , the one that reads she knew all his secrets and that he was as thin as paper. When he refuses to spill all of the guilt gathering in his gut immediately (he was weak to her, okay), she sighs and abandons her current project.

“So what’s really up with you?” She stares at him, like he was a particularly interesting specimen, or a puzzle to solve.

“Nothing,” He answers honestly. “Just…gonna miss this when we get to Earth.”

Pidge looks at him weirdly. “Why are you going to miss it?”

He doesn’t have a response for her. Not one he was willing to share, at least.

 

On the last night they’ll spend together, sleep is so far out of the realm of possibility that he ignores it completely.  

Instead, he spends the night traveling through the familiar halls. Two years. He’s twenty years old, the red paladin (and former black paladin), impulsive, quick tempered, a brat, a _worthless kid should have killed you when I had the chance_ -

Bad thoughts have no place here, he reminds himself, and continues traveling through the hallways, tracing the usual paths with solemn eyes.

 

(Red is there, she’s always there when he needs it. He nestles closer to her paw, feeling the thrum of _love-protect-worry_ reverberate through their bond.

"Don’t worry girl," He tells her, running a hand along the cold metal, yet knowing deep in his heart that this will be the last time they’ll see each other for a long time.)

 

The instant they’re released from questioning, Keith knows that it’s over. Allura and Coran are whisked away by officials nearly the instant they step foot outside the containment rooms. All he has is a brief hair rustle, a warm touch on his inner wrist, and then they’re gone.

Lance is gone almost right after them, already tapping into his phone to call for an Uber to catch his flight to Varadero in an hour. The sharpshooter flings himself at everyone in turn, setting aside a complicated handshake for Hunk and smothers Pidge in kisses.

Keith only gets a barely there hug before it disappears, and his front feels aching from the lost touch. Lance practically tears into the Uber as if he couldn’t get there fast enough, but his eyes are suspiciously wet as the car pulls away.

Next is Hunk, who spends most of their time complaining about the long air flight to his island town. Shiro is on Keith’s left, Hunk to his right while Pidge sits to the other side of him. Even through the plastic of the chair he feels their warmth, and something in him settles a bit at the comfort.

(It’s not perfect though, it wasn’t ever perfect unless all of them were together, breathless from laughter and chasing all the shadows away with their light)

Hunk’s Uber eventually arrives, and there’s a good moment of tearful goodbyes before they can bare to let him go. Keith closes his eyes as Hunk tucks him under his chin, wrapping himself in the steadiness and warmth of the former yellow paladin before it leaves forever.

And then there were three.

Pidge dawdles as much as she can, but eventually the siren call of seeing her mother again wins out too much. Her brother and dad have already rented a car - with what money, he doesn’t know, but since _Matt_ was the one who taught Pidge to hack into the Pentagon, he’s not too terribly surprised - and when they arrive she barely restrains herself to give Shiro and him quick high fives.

She’s not a naturally affectionate person, he knows this, but the sting in his chest doesn’t lessen for some reason.

And then she's gone.

 

“You’re sure you’ll be good on your own?” Shiro asks him again, a casual arm flung over his shoulders and pulling him into his side.

Keith shrugs, as best he can. “I’m sure. Probably gonna try and find my parents, find answers.”

Something like pride flashes across Shiro’s face, and then he’s tugged into another hug. He’s grateful for it, even when he knows every fiber of Shiro's being is begging to see his family.

He has to make this choice, he dimly realizes, and something heavy settled over his chest. “I...uh, say hi to your grandpa for me.”

Shiro genuinely smiles, a rare thing since that day where three cadets and a former expelled student rescued an unconscious Shiro from the fallen Galra ship. Probably before that, even. “I will. Don’t be a stranger, Keith.”

He nods, even if it feels like the there's glass in his throat. Shiro squeezes his shoulder once more, but then he left, his broad back the last thing he sees before it disappears down the street.

 

(It’s your mother’s, his father told him once upon a time. His stubble had fully grown out, and Keith could feel every one of his own ribs from too many skipped meals, not enough money for two.

Take care of it. Keith had nodded along then, not understanding his father’s sad look in his eyes.

Then his father had turned away, his broad back blocking out the sunlight, and that was the last time Keith ever saw him.)

 

He sits there in the waiting room until closing, his eyes fixed on the street corner where Shiro disappeared until they kicked him out. Even then, it was only when the moon was high in the sky could he gather the courage to dredge his own feet down the street, opposite of where Shiro had gone.

 

It's a lot farther to Arizona from Washington D.C. than he thought it would be.

The sun beats down on his scalp and dark clothes as he travels the roads of national highways, occasionally trying to hitchhike when he could.

Not often, though. His soles burn into his feet, but he doesn’t dare stop.

 

(His phone, on the last trickling battery he salvages before he writes the names of the highways down, says the journey by walking would take him a month. He’s sure he can manage it in half.

If he uses the last dredges to flip through all the social media apps Pidge forced him to download onto his phone, familiar faces glowing with joy flashing by in all their pixelated glory, then that’s his secret.)

 

Highway numbers bleed together, the loose change in his pocket growing steadily smaller and smaller at every gas station he stops in.

Keith washes what he can in a convenience store with an actually pretty clean bathroom, wiping traces of built up sweat and dirt from his face and arms. Water droplets hit the mirror as he splashes his face, and when he stares into the glass, he can't recognize who was staring back at first.

He leaves that station quickly afterwards.

 

(Hunk smiled at him from where he was stirring his newest experiment. “Wanna help?” He asked, because Hunk was good like that. He always knew what needed to be said without Keith even having to say it.

Keith nodded, slinking forward on bare feet towards the counter. His hands were covered by his softest hoodie sleeves, but he didn’t need them to stir. It was quiet, but a comfortable sort of quiet where he didn’t feel the need to judge every action he made.

Their hips bumped as Hunk passed him by to grab the newest alien fruit of the week, and a small smile flitted on his face at the comfort.)

 

He wakes up with tear tracks on his face, and something in him begins to break.

 

Keith charges his phone at the next outdoor outlet he finds, and tries not to wince at the sheer amount of calls and texts he’s missed.

Luckily, most of the texts are from the group chat Lance had peer pressured him into joining literally the instant they had cellular service. His face softens as he speed reads the texts, mostly consisting of updates or funny anecdotes.

The calls, he can blame that on Shiro. All but three of them are from his older brother figure, the worrywart that he is.

But - not yet.

Silently, he unplugs his phone and watches the meager battery slip through his fingers like sand.

 

He reaches the halfway part around the seventeenth day. Not as good as he was hoping, but not bad either. It gives him a boost of courage for him to try hitchhiking once more, and perhaps the people in the Midwest are kinder than the people up north.

An hour later, with a hand print bruise around his throat and a shake in his hands that _just won’t go away_ , he kicks the door open of the ruined car and wiggles his way out of the half crushed vehicle. His attempted assaulter is slumped over the steering wheel, but he’s alive and relevantly unharmed, and that’s more than what Keith was hoping for.

Digging his hand through the unconscious man’s pockets, he finally manages to pull it out and call for an ambulance, taking pains to keep his voice deeper than usual. The instant he receives confirmation that an ambulance was on the way, he wipes off everything his fingers had touched with his sleeve and leaves as quickly as his twinging ankle will let him.

 

(He was never a huge fan of the Blades, despite being a member himself. They were too secretive and passive for his personal liking, but they gave him answers to questions that had been burdening his mind for years.

Each blade is registered under a family line, Kolivan had explained to him one day when he pulled him aside to ask. It is only passed down in case of death or abandoning their name.

And his mother wasn’t the type to abandon like that, even he knew that much from the stories his father told him when he was little.

"So she’s dead?’" Keith remembers asking, his voice cracking as he weighed the knife in his hands, the purple visage fading under his blurring eyes.

Kolivan hadn’t said anything, but that was proof enough.)

 

Why does he want to go to Arizona again? He can’t remember.

 

His feet have so many blisters now that every step is agony. His socks are soaked through with blood, and the sole of his left shoe came off completely after a particularly nasty rock.

It’s been twenty one days now.

 

He’s in a gas station deep in the desert once more when it happens. The attendant is giving him pitying stares at his filthy clothes and tattered shoes, but yet doesn’t bother with offering to help and instead watches him like he’s a thievery waiting to happen.

The world spins around him when he tries to grab a water bottle, his fingers fumbling uselessly around the cap. He reaches once more for the cap, but his hand bumps against the fridge door instead, several inches past the mark.

“Huh?” Keith slurs out, and he realizes slowly just how slow his tongue is to respond to his command. And then the floor is a lot closer than he thought it would be, wow.

That’s his last thought before darkness sweeps him away.

 

“You have to stop this,” Shiro tells him disapprovingly, like they’re fifteen and eight all over again. And maybe they were fifteen and eight, the world's blurry on the edges. Every time he went to grasp Shiro’s face it slipped away from him like water -

“I don’t know buddy,” Lance was telling him through the comms, his voice rushed and worried. “You could really die doing this.”

Ah, this was a memory, wasn’t it?

He remembers it, how he had smirked and asked Lance if he was scared as he set the bombs, ignoring the own thumping in his chest the whole time.

How did that memory end again?

 

Keith dreams of red.

 

_Where are you?_ Red calls through the dark, her voice piercing it just as effective as her beloved fire. _Come home, my paladin._

_Don’t follow me._ He manages to say through gritted teeth, flecked with dried blood. _I’m not worth it._

Keith can feel Red calling for him, urging him to use his wings to escape from this hellish pit. But he’s a human, can’t she see? He has no wings to guide him home, and even if he did he wouldn’t use them.

He doesn’t deserve it.

 

When he wakes up, he’s in a room patterned in white and the familiar thump of a heart monitor. Hadn’t been in one of these for a while.

No one but a nurse comes for the hour he takes to muster any will to leave this semi comfortable bed, and that’s easy enough to fake sleep through. But he has to leave, he can’t take this kindness, never mind not having any funds to pay for the sure hospital bills.

There’s an IV in his arm, but he’s had years of practice taking that out and muffling the alarm, even if he was a bit rusty at it. While he’s at it, Keith turns off the heart monitor as long as it would let him.

The floor’s cold when he stands up, his feet bare and dressed in a flimsy hospital gown. His clothes and worn boots are in a plastic bag in the corner of the room, hidden under a counter and marked with a large ‘JOHN DOE’. He breezes through his chart, flipping through the pages quickly as he tries to unscramble the medical jumbo. Having to learn field emergency surgery taught him the basics, so he understands just enough to know he has severe dehydration and malnutrition.

What is he _doing_?

 

Arizona is the end goal. But what’s _in_ Arizona?

 

He keeps walking. Only around a week left now.

 

He’s only about half a day’s walk away from that hospital in the middle of the desert, several bottles of water in his backpack now when he hears the news. He spent the rest of his cash in buying provisions, rationing just enough to actually give him energy, even when he wasn’t hungry.

It’s like he’s lost all sense of contact with his body, his needs evaporating in the face of some kind of greater purpose. When he stares into the bathroom mirror of the newest gas station he's taken refuge in, his reflection flashed purple just enough that it takes him a far too many moments to bring his breathing back to normal levels.

It's when he finally can bring himself to face the ‘music’ (Lance would find that hysterical, him actually making a joke) that he sees the small TV in the corner.

Voltron.

_Missing Red Paladin from the Voltron Force -_ is all he needs to read before the clip starts playing.

**_Red_**. Keith watches with the feeling of his heart in his throat as he sees her magnificent self rising from her stationary position next to the wide reserved flat lands the rest of the lions sleep in. He got Lance to promise to take her out for a spin on occasion, just so his girl doesn’t get restless, so it’s not too much of a surprise to see her moving.

That is, until, he sees the reckless speed she pushes in her haste to get somewhere. Somewhere, he realizes with an ache in his chest as he reads the timestamp in the corner, or more like _someone_. She must have felt him when he was passing out, despite all his efforts to block her out, but at least she lost contact when he fell unconscious.

Small mercies, at least.

 

It’s another day before he can bring himself to contact anyone.

 

At first, he just contacts Red. Just a small part of their once vast connection, he wasn’t taking any chances of her flying to him and dragging him back to D.C. by the collar of his shirt like an unruly cub.

_Red_? He calls out, and he doesn’t have to wait long before the full strength of a sea of fire washes over him, bathing him in dangerous warmth that’s at once too much and not enough.

_My paladin_! Keith hears her scream out, and something in their bond clatters around.

_I’m fine_ , he murmurs back, just allowing himself to soak in her protective presence. _I was fine._

She’s uncharacteristically silent for a long moment. Then: _No, you are not_.

He winces, but doesn’t deny it. _No, I’m not_.

Another moment of silence.

_I will always love you, Red_ , He lets out all of his fondness for her to find and feel, all those years of love and warmth and feeling like he mattered to _somebody_. _Lance will take good care of you. Be nice to Shiro, okay_?

_No, my paladin_ \- !

In his mind, his mother’s knife warms his hand as he eyes the red string tying them together.

_Goodbye, Red_.

Keith cuts down.

 

In the distance, a lion roars.

 

Something in his chest aches, the presence of another lost, even suppressed, too much to ignore.

But he pushes onward, his phone charger in hand for the first time in days.

 

Lance: Dude where are you (((( ;°Д°))))

Pidge: Srsly red went nuts

Lance: ლಠ益ಠ)ლ Don’t make my beautiful girl upset because of how bad tempered you are

Hunk: Lance just means that he’s worried about you

Hunk: Check in once in awhile, nobody has heard from you since d.c.

Hunk: Keith?

 

Shiro: Please, Keith, just pick up the phone. We need to know you’re okay

Shiro: If you don’t answer within twenty four hours, I’m calling in Allura and the rest of the Voltron force for a potential crime

Shiro: So please…be okay

 

Pidge: KEITH HOLY SHIT

Pidge: RED JUST WENT BERSERK, WHAT IS GOING ON?!!??

Hunk: She’s right, Red is going completely nuts out there. She’s lashing out everywhere and almost killed Lance when he tried to calm her down

Pidge: oh no

Pidge: pls don’t tell me

Pidge: keith pls be alright

Lance: Red said

Lance: Red said she couldn’t feel you anymore

Lance: She won’t stop

Lance: She’s crying

 

Shiro: I have all eyes and ears looking for you, it’s only a matter of time till we find something

Shiro: You’re going to be okay

Shiro: We’ll find you

 

Unknown number: hey, i got the number from katie

Unknown number: it’s matt

Matthew Holt: so you've gone missing, huh

Matthew Holt: katie’s been a wreck since the news

Matthew Holt: she won’t eat, she won’t sleep. all she does is work on her computer

Matthew Holt: she found some clues in new mexico, something about a john doe with a weird blood scan that went missing

Matthew Holt: so…

Matthew Holt: don’t let my sister find a dead body

Matthew Holt: she’s found enough in her lifetime

 

_(Don’t find me)_

 

(Him and Allura never got along too well, both of them too assertive for their own good. But he cared for her in a way that was uniquely Allura. He could never talk strategy with her like Shiro, or be like Lance and play with her hair, or just be a comforting ear like Hunk and Coran, or be the odd sense of common sense that Pidge is.

But he could be there for her in times where she was afraid to drop her leader mask, just _be_ there. Hopefully she of all people would understand.)

 

He calls Allura next.

Keith would feel guilty about stealing one of Pidge’s trick to backdoor his phone’s location, but this is for their own good. The faster they forget about him, the faster he can disappear. Because isn’t that what he always wanted? To disappear?

He needs to put a stop to their worry.

“Who is this?” Allura answers curtly, and despite it all it brings a smile to his face. “How did you get this number?”

“Hey, Princess.” Keith croaks, his throat dry from more than just nerves. He’s been running a low grade temp all day, and his windpipe feels like he swallowed glass. “It’s Keith.”

There’s a moment of just silence, before he can physically feel Allura startling. “Keith! You’re alive! The whole team has been worried sick about you, where are you? Me and Coran can pick you up and be back in just a few ticks.”

Even though she can’t see it, he shakes his head with a small smile. “No can do, just wanted to let you all know I’m alive.”

“Keith…?” Allura pauses, and something in her tone changes. “Who has you saying this? Give me a clue, we can find you in no time.”

“What.” Keith blurts out, his sore throat once again reminding him of its presence. “No, Allura, I promise nobody’s holding me captive or anything like that. I can’t lie that well, you know that.”

That, at least, seems to subside her. “Then what _is_ going on?”

“I’m - I’m sorry.”

“Let us help you, just come talk to us -”

He swallows thickly. Counts to ten, and then back. When the burn in his eyes refuses to go away, he bumps his head against the brick wall behind him and curses himself for being so weak. “I’m sorry, Princess. _Goodbye_.”

The last part slips out in Korean, a formal sort of goodbye he’s only heard once before. Then he hangs up the phone, powering it off one last time, hopefully for good.

 

( _Goodbye’_ his father whispered to him in Korean, but it sounded like he was slurring the last word, it sounded wrong and off.

But he didn’t get a chance to ask before his father kissed his brow and left him half asleep in bed, his mother’s knife in his lap.

It was only later that he learned it meant goodbye when someone was leaving you.)

 

He takes pains to avoid Pidge’s sure surveillance methods.

It makes him lose another day by walking back roads rather than the main ones with street cameras, but he can only walk with his hood up for so long before people get suspicious.

He stops sleeping at night, preferring to walk in the hours where there are less people, even if it is too quiet and more dangerous. It took three separate tries, someone trying to mug him, and one drunk assault before he manages to leave the city and back to familiar country roads.

Throughout it all, his hand never leaves his mother’s knife.

 

Somewhere in this, he thinks it’s been a month.

 

A person tries to steal his backpack while he was busy trying to put the back of his heel in its place again instead of on the cement, and he has to stifle his rage into only breaking their arm instead of their neck.

 

Arizona Arizona Arizona Arizona Arizona _Arizona Arizona Arizona ARIZONA -_

 

His feet hurt so, so, _so_ much.

 

(‘Your dad left you, your mom is dead, your team has their own lives. What’s the use of going on?’

‘Because… I can’t give up just like that. I have to find out why.’

‘Why what? Why what, Keith?’)

 

The car he just hitchhiked in sped off loudly, leaving him standing in the dirt trail it left behind with red eyes and aching legs.

He still has four miles left to go before he hits his destination, so he spends it idly playing with his one lone backpack strap and trying to scrub what’s possibly weeks of dirt off his face. He gave up on caring for his appearance somewhere around twenty days on the road, people still treat him with disdain whether he has dirt on his face or not.

After what feels like ages, he arrives.

 

“Home….”

 

Such an idiot. He’s not sure what he was expecting to find in this little shack in the desert, but whatever it was, he doesn’t find it.

But at least he can rest, even if it’s just a little bit.

 

(The Shirogane family fostered him for only a little more than half of year, but yet…)

 

(“Hi, I’m Takashi!” His newest foster brother raised his hand for him to shake, and eight year old Keith hesitantly took it in his own. “But everyone calls me Shiro.”

The newly named Shiro eyed the fresh stitches above his eyebrow with concern, but he didn’t do anything but squeeze his hand more firmly. “I’m going to make sure that nothing like that ever happens again okay?”)

 

(It was a lie then, and it’s a lie now.)

 

There was only one time in his life that he just… gave up.

 

_Kerberos_

_Pilot error_

_He’s left you, just like everyone else_

_Better off dead_

 

Keith’s not stupid. He doesn’t want to die, not really.

His brain though? That’s a little harder to convince.

 

The shack had been rummaged through already, by Voltron or the Garrison, he’s not sure.

Nothing of importance had been taken, at least. The medical cabinet still carries everything he needed, even if there wasn’t any electricity or water.

Wincing, he slips off his ruined shoes, glad to see them gone forever if he could help it. His socks, while changed and washed whenever he could, were still a bloody, gunky stained mess he dumps straight in the trash can.

Time to dress these blisters.

 

“I don’t know buddy,” Lance was telling him through the comms, his voice rushed and worried. “You could really die doing this.”

Keith laughed. “What, you worried?”

Lance scoffed at him, the sound of his gun firing a constant background. “Sue me for being a good teammate.”

How did it end again?

“Keith, get out there!”

“I’m trying!” He screamed back just as loud, cutting down the sentires in his path as he ran like crazy towards his escape pod. “What’s your situation?”

“I’m fine,” Lance breathed out heavily. “I’m already on my way back to the castle, you have less than two minutes to get out of there.”

Keith cursed. “I know, dammit!”

Pidge’s voice cracked on the comms. “Bad news and good news. Sentries have found some of the bombs, but they aren’t a match for my skills. I can buy you time, but I’m not sure how much -”

Something exploded. It took him a moment to realize it was the ship.

His vision goes out as the next blast ringed right behind him, the faint sounds of his team screaming his name echoing in his ears.

 

He tries. He really does.

But no matter what he does, the restless feeling won’t stop burning under his skin.

Four days. He spends four days in the cabin, letting his feet heal and for some of the exhaustion to drain out of his veins.

Then he leaves once more.

 

This time, he packs more. He isn’t coming back.

 

It was almost like those first few months in space again, where adventure had stolen his very breath away and there was never time for any self doubt to creep in. Where he hadn’t let down his walls yet, before Red’s warmth slowly thawed the glass shards in his heart just in time for loneliness and abandonment to creep in like frost on the mirror.

He travels west at first with all his savings in his pocket, until he meets water and could go no further. North calls for him, rumors of deep forests and wilderness as far as the eye could see smoothing over months upon months in the desert before space called his name.

 

(The first chance he gets, Keith chucks his phone into the pacific without any remorse. He doesn’t need those memories anymore.)

 

Adrenaline pounds through his veins because he doesn’t care anymore, he just doesn’t _care_. Keith crashes parties along the coast, walks in the sand with bandaged feet and laughs and laughs. He’s a year too young to drink, but does that stop him?

All he wants is to forget for a while, and when the sun rises, so does he.

 

Hitchhiking is all he can do nowadays, and it earns him just a few hours of peace from his thoughts as he forces small talk with the driver. Most of them are nice, even friendly. On one memorable occasion, he was picked up by a choir band. He leaves with at least four cheek pinches and several snacks tucked into his duffel bag.

The not so nice ones? He has his mother’s knife for those.

 

(“In the end,” Pidge said, her hands tapping a steady beat on his chestplate, both of them buried three feet under in the base’s rubble awaiting help rather calmly compared to their teammates panicked squabble over the comms. “We’re all made of the same cosmic dust.”)

 

The forests in the northwest aren’t as comforting as he thought they would be, the greens just a shade or two off and the constant rain serving as a source of ever present annoyance.

But it’s quiet, and he’s never quite alone with his thoughts when there’s always something to do, some nook or cranny to explore, some learning to do.

(It’s like those first few months out in space, but not.)

 

In one of his walks, he finds a lake house.

The lake is tiny, the house even more so. The trail towards the main road spans miles of uneven gravel, and everything is polished with a light sheen of dust.

He feels almost bad when his fingers skirt over the lock of the front door, pressing reverent shapes into the grooves of the rusting metal. But he still clenches his hand tighter and rips off the weakened lock.

 

The house is small and quaint, dotted with a few bugs here and there and dust so heavy he makes footprints in it. He moves his stuff into the main room in only a few hours, rolling up his jacket’s sleeves as he sets to mind making this place as clean as possible.

He doesn’t let his mind drift to homey. He doesn’t.

 

It’s been over two months, he thinks.

 

How long does it take to forget a person?

Not long enough, apparently.

 

Keith’s in the nearest town, roughly six miles away with his hat pulled low over his head and a wheelbarrow stashed at the beginnings of the forest when he sees the news.

The small TV flickers with the wind outside at the aged grocery store, the sound muted but legible words scrawled at the bottom and pixelated images scrawling past.

His name. His pictures.

_Any news on the missing Voltron Force paladin, call -_

Stares are everywhere as the milk carton tumbles out of his hands, customers and workers alike turning to look at him. And at the TV.

A hand in his peripheral moves as if to pick up a phone, and he bolts.

 

The town isn’t safe, the cabin isn’t safe, _he_ isn’t safe.

Everything he owns, Keith tosses right back into the duffel he unpacked weeks earlier after the fourth time he tripped over it. Even still, he spends whatever time he can spare on straightening up the place, to erase his presence.

To erase himself.

By the time he steps outside, some part of him thinks he can already hear Red’s roar.

 

That was practically asking fate to tempt him, he realizes as he feels the goosebumps over his neck from Green flying above him. Years of being with Red (and Black, before he forcibly cut the bond weeks after Shiro was there to stay) attuned him enough to tell the sounds of Green’s machinery humming while invisible.

Impossible to tell in the midst of battle, easy enough in the complete silence of the forest.

Said forest was too dense for the Lions to land in, thank the stars for that, but that doesn’t stop the scannings. Every time he hears the hums of Green flying above him, he ducks against a tree trunk and holds his breath.

Both Yellow and Black seem to have given up, or the pilots set out on foot, the latter more likely than not.

Keith hasn’t seen Red or Blue. He’s not sure what to feel about that.

 

(Stop looking for me, _please_.)

 

The reason he couldn’t see Blue becomes apparent soon enough.

All the warning he has is the sound of the Green uncloaking and drawing back, the flash of Blue as she ducks under her sister, and then _noise_.

It’s takes him a moment, but then he realizes what it is.

Blue’s sonic cannon.

Shit.

 

It’s useless, but he tries running anyhow.

Keith ditches his bag, only carrying the clothes on his back and his mother’s knife. He doesn’t get far before Blue circles around him towards the front, Green flying low behind him.

They keep pace with him until Black and Yellow flank him, and he collapses to the ground laughing.

He doesn’t stop laughing even as he’s joined by four others, head hanging over his knees as sharp notes of desperation hang in the air.

 

“I told Allura I was fine.” He says hoarsely when he gets his breath back, sitting up with a hiccup. His face is wet with tears, but yet he doesn’t look at any of them, his head lolling back on his neck uncomfortably.

“You’re obviously not.” Pidge’s voice is thick with something. Anger, maybe? Good, she should be.

Keith hiccups slightly, a weak smile twitching on his face. “My call, little green.”

He can hear someone step behind him, and it’s only when a hand tousles in his hair and tosses his head around does he know who it is. “Keith.” Shiro says.

“Come home.”

He can’t help laughing again, new tears budding in his eyes as the rest of the team bundles around him. “And where’s that?”

The hand tightens around his shoulder. “With _us_.”

Keith finally looks at the rest of them, and sees. Sees the way Pidge is barely biting back her own tears while Hunk is a mess of emotions. Shiro’s eyes are suspiciously wet above him, and even Allura is sniffling to herself.

Before he can even question where Lance is, he hears a familiar heart-pounding roar.

 

The hand loosens. “Go.”

 

Lance draws him into a hug long before he even sees Red. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, okay?!”

He doesn’t say anything, but his arms shakily hug him back.

 

Red awaits him, fire and fury tempering her once gentle warmth.

Keith mouths a ‘I’m sorry’ or maybe a ‘I can explain’, but they all feel so empty and meaningless like after Black all over again. So instead, he just cups his hands around her head, pressing his forehead to the metal between her eyes.

“Look.” He tells her.

She does.

 

_I will always love you, my stupid, idiotic, hurt cub._

_That doesn’t sound very much like you love me, you know._

_Listen, and learn, stupid cub._

 

_Shiro’s heartbroken expression as he leans over his knees in front of his childhood desk, another failed lead into his little brother’s disappearance, the fear that he might have been too late, that he was dead - /_

_Hunk’s shaking hands as he cooks, wondering when Keith will finally come home. When, not if, because the hospital chart said he was underweight and malnourished and Keith always loved cooking with him so they’ll have to do it a lot when he comes back and he can’t be rusty right - /_

_Pidge doing her damndest not to cry while typing, trying to break her own code to get Keith’s last known location, which kept bouncing off several cell towers and landing somewhere in the middle of the ocean. Matt touches her shoulder, but she can’t, she can’t right now she has to find Keith - /_

_Lance tries his best to reach out to Red, to offer words of comfort even as his own heart screams at him for lying. He’s so so useless, he can’t contribute to finding Keith at all, he’s just a boy from Cuba, but he can do this. He can comfort Keith’s favorite girl until he returns and stops being such an idiot - /_

_Allura’s heartbroken face after he hangs up on her, worry and fear a low swirling nausea in her stomach as the her shaking fingers stumble to call Pidge, because Keith wasn’t kidnapped or dead but he was lost in his own mind and she’s been there, she knows what’s that like - /_

_Coran - / Matt - / Kolivan -----_

 

He opens his eyes.

 

“Let’s go home.” Shiro says again, arms wrapped around his collapsed figure. A chin tucks over his shoulder, and he feels more and more warm bodies pile around him to comfort his growing sobs.

A wail tears out of his chest, but his family doesn’t let go.

 

_You see, idiot cub? They never stopped caring. And they never will._

_I…_

 

“...Okay.”  

 

 

 


End file.
